


Right of Ascension

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Valentine's Kisses 2019 [23]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Feudal AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, Royal Ass Drama, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 04:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Akaashi was destined to rule the kingdom of Fukurodani upon his father's death, but his own life was in danger while he sought to build relationships long fallen into disrepair. However, a stalwart stranger took Akaashi's life in his hands and lifted him back where he belonged.But where would Aone belong once Akaashi returned to his homeland?





	1. Chapter 1

“Make way for the prince!” called Bokuto, the captain of the royal guard. “Make way, make way!”

Akaashi sighed and trotted his horse up next to Bokuto’s, clapping his shoulder. “That’s really not necessary. I’m on a horse. If they don’t get out of the way of a horse, bad things were bound to happen to them anyway.”

Bokuto threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, you’re always the most fun. It’s a shame you rarely ever leave the keep.”

“If only my sole responsibility was to amuse you, kingdoms would be far simpler to manage.” Akaashi didn’t bother fighting off his smile, though. Bokuto was easily one of his favorite people. Sure, the guy could fight like a demon, but he always had a joke and a grin for anyone who needed it. 

Akaashi needed it a lot these days. Bokuto was correct in his assessment of Akaashi’s usual comings and goings. He didn’t leave the keep often, with his ailing father Yajimi unable to keep up with much of the kingdom’s affairs. Akaashi knew these duties would be his someday anyway, ruling the realm of Fukurodani, but he already missed the opportunity to enjoy his life a bit before being chained to the throne.

Their journey that day would bring them to the next kingdom over, Seijou. After decades of Yajimi obstinately refusing to trade with their neighbors to the east, despite the fact that there was a vast shortage of fresh fish because the kingdom standing between their realm and the ocean happened to be estranged. 

The argument keeping the embargo in place was an old and ridiculous one, and Akaashi was eager to put an end to it and fill his people’s bellies the way they deserved. All of it was over a spat with the prince at the time, the present king. 

Instead of marrying Akaashi’s Aunt Yukie, his father’s younger sister, Prince Oikawa’s heart was captured by the Fukurodani blacksmith who re-shod Oikawa’s horse after visiting Yukie one fateful afternoon. Akaashi didn’t see what the big deal was, other than Fukurodani losing their best swordsmith. 

So Akaashi was set on repairing that bridge and strongly encouraging his father to get over it.

Seijou was a beautiful land. The wind was swept with petals from cherry trees, the air sweetened by their subtle fragrance, and every stream seemed to run crystal clear. However, the true gem of Seijou was certainly the palace that sat at its heart. The deep blue stones reached up to incredible heights to dominate the sky for miles around.

Akaashi wouldn’t want to live there, but it would be nice to visit from time to time. He had heard wonderful things — and a few scandalous things, to boot — about King Oikawa’s parties. The Grand King, they called him.

When their entourage reached the borders of the kingdom, Akaashi dropped to his feet and addressed the armored knights waiting there personally. It had been at Oikawa’s insistence, ensuring that only his intended audience made his way into the heart of Seijou after so long. 

“I am Prince Akaashi of Fukurodani, and I await an audience with your King.” 

Tugging off his helmet, Akaashi was surprised to see a familiar face. His hair was streaked with gray and his chin littered with small white scars — no doubt a souvenir from his past occupation. “I told Tooru he was being ridiculous, but he’s convinced your father is sucking you into a ruse to overthrow him. 

Akaashi snorted. “I assure you, that is not the case. In fact, I’m pretty sure my father would have a heart attack if he even knew I was here.”

Iwaizumi, the blacksmith-come-prince, nodded and chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds like him. I think he hates Tooru because they’re so much alike. They’re bound to piss each other off.”

“Unfortunately.” Akaashi patted the sword at his side — the same one Iwaizumi had crafted for him for his eighteenth birthday. Over the past fifteen years, it had never failed him and he doubted it ever would. “Do you want me to leave this with you?”

Rolling his eyes, Iwaizumi replied, “I’m not taking a future king’s weapon from him in a foreign kingdom. I will have to ask that you confine your party to two men. Anything else and we might draw too much attention to your arrival.” 

His gaze meandered in the general direction of the castle. “While my husband is an idiot, he is capable of moving past old petty rivalries, even if he’ll be a pissbaby about it. I can’t speak for everyone else, though.”

“Understood.” Over his shoulder, Akaashi called, “Bokuto, Konoha, on me.”

Bokuto’s entire expression was stormy the moment he realized what was about to happen. “I don’t like this. It’s dangerous.”

Akaashi was a breath away from dismissing Bokuto’s concerns, but Iwaizumi spoke before he got the chance. “Yes, it is. That’s why we need to keep a low profile.” He cast a fond smile at Akaashi. “I’ve known this guy since he was born. I would die before I let anything happen to him.”

Iwaizumi offered an arm, and Bokuto seemed to recognize the old warrior’s gesture immediately. “His life for yours.”

“My life for his.” Iwaizumi gripped Bokuto’s wrist, and Bokuto did the same. Akaashi wasn’t the most skilled warrior by any means and elements of the unwritten rules of knighthood often escaped him, but he knew that was the moment Bokuto believed Iwaizumi’s pledge. 

Next to Bokuto, Konoha raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not going to kill you or your king unless something actually happens to Keiji. Bokuto’s trust in you is good enough for me.”

“I’m honored to have Fukurodani’s greatest knights’ faith so readily.” With a quick gesture, one of Iwaizumi’s men brought his horse over. “If you don’t mind, we’re going to go the back way. It’s safer.”

Humming in agreement, Akaashi said, “After you.”

Akaashi still didn’t know what title to assign to Iwaizumi. Technically, since he was married to a king, that made him a prince and Akaashi’s equal, but Akaashi couldn’t quite shake the awestruck days of his childhood where he had haunted Iwaizumi’s workshop to watch lifeless rocks come to life as gleaming steel before his eyes. 

“Relax, kid.” Iwaizumi ruffled Akaashi’s already windswept hair like he had during those hot afternoons of working for an audience. “Tooru may be a Grand Jackass, but he’s my grand jackass and I won’t let him mess with you too much.”

And just like that, Akaashi was ten again, and the dirt streaked and affectionate royal blacksmith was his companion and not a rival prince. Whether Iwaizumi did it to comfort him, Akaashi didn’t know. However, the gesture was welcome. “I appreciate it.”

They mounted, and the small party less than half the size of Akaashi’s traveling entourage set out for the rear entrance to the castle, where merchants delivered goods and staff went in and out for the day. 

The journey passed without incident, and soon Akaashi stood in the fabled Seijou Blue Castle. It was as extraordinary as the few scraps of art allowed to circulate of it had intimated and then some. However, nothing eclipsed the glimmering figure of the man sitting on the throne at the end of the great hall, draped in a long flowing cloak of gold.

“Welcome to Seijou, Prince Akaashi.”

Akaashi was about to reply before Iwaizumi spoke first. “Take that thing off. You look ridiculous.”

“I’m being kingly for our guests!” Oikawa squawked, and a squabble over nothing and everything all at once developed from there. All of Akaashi’s contingent (including himself) were taken aback by the sheer normalcy of their domestic bickering. 

Perhaps Oikawa was as wise as Iwaizumi had said, if not dignified to the extent of Akaashi’s imaginings of the richest king on the entire continent. He also could see exactly why Oikawa and Yukie would have been a bad match. Yukie would have strangled him in his sleep.

Approaching Oikawa’s throne, Akaashi knelt in front of it. “Thank you for seeing me, Your Grace. The opportunity to rebuild old relationships is appreciated, and I would like to extend my deepest regrets that it has taken so long for me and mine to extend this gesture of goodwill.” 

Oikawa beamed at Akaashi, back straight and arms crossed haughtily. “You have truly princely manners, Akaashi. Unlike  _ some  _ princes.” He shot a glare at Iwaizumi. “So, your missive seemed earnest and well thought out. What do you propose?”

With the meat of his visit finally at hand, Akaashi outlined all of his painfully considered ideas for reconnecting trade lines between their respective realms. Seijou would supply fresh fish and seaweed, and Fukurodani would offer grain and as many cattle as they could spare in return. At the mention of beef, Iwaizumi sighed loudly and Akaashi had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. So the man missed his old home, after all, if only the food.

“Your proposal is acceptable,” Oikawa said finally, after a long and animated not-quite-whispered conversation with Iwaizumi. “I will prepare the first delivery to ship out in ten days’ time. However, for today, I would like to send you on your way with something for your courage in coming here today.”

Oikawa snapped his fingers, and a serving girl hurried over carrying a small, gleaming mahogany box. Once she presented it to Oikawa, he offered it to Akaashi. “For you.”

Akaashi could feel Bokuto looming over his shoulder, ready to strike should the offering be a foul ploy, but if trust were ever to be restored between them, it would have to start with him. Taking a deep breath, Akaashi opened the box and his jaw dropped. “So you had it all this time?”

Nestled in a satin pillow was an ancient-looking key — one that opened a door deep in the lower levels of the Fukurodani keep, which had been sealed for as long as Akaashi could remember. What was in it, he hadn’t the faintest idea, but he knew exactly what he was going to do when he got back. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“And make sure you tell your lovely aunt that I returned it as promised,” Oikawa added. Iwaizumi seemed baffled by the remark and so was Akaashi, but perhaps Yukie could fill him in on the details. “Now that business is taken care of, on to pleasure! Join me for the evening meal and a respite before you depart. I hate to think of you roaming the countryside at night. Your beauty would be a shame to waste when you’re in your prime.”

Akaashi flushed at the remark, but he chortled when Iwaizumi swatted Oikawa on the arm. “Knock it off. You’re old enough to be his dad.”

“I can look!” Oikawa pouted and crossed his arms, glaring at Iwaizumi. “I’m married, not dead.”

“I can fix that,” Iwaizumi snapped, and Oikawa squeaked in alarm. Whether Iwaizumi was threatening divorce or death, Akaashi had no idea, but neither did Oikawa and that was almost certainly by design. “Now that that nonsense is over,” Iwaizumi turned to them, “he’s right. Please stay the night. I’ll personally pick the men who guard your door.”

Akaashi nodded, and soon he was swept away by the grandeur of a dinner service in the great Blue Castle. Finely seasoned prawns were heaped on his plate, a delicacy Akaashi remembered well but had not partaken since half a lifetime ago. 

Bokuto hovered over his shoulder like a bird of prey until Akaashi offered to let him have the first taste to deem it safe. He remembered that Bokuto had been fond of prawns from their time growing up in the tiltyard together, so he wouldn’t rule out the idea of Bokuto lusting after his dinner. 

But Iwaizumi was one step ahead. He beckoned a liveried servant and gave him a quick order, and soon two more chairs were brought out for Bokuto and Konoha both to indulge aside their lord. “Oh, man, I love this place.” Bokuto groaned when a mound of prawns just for him were brandished in short order. He gave the serving girl a grin and a wink. “Thank you, love.”

The girl, tall with blond hair framing a fair countenance and a ready smile, yelped. “Of course, milord.”

Soon they were all full to bursting, and Akaashi wasn’t sure if he would survive the trip up the stairs without leaving some of his dinner behind on the steps. However, he finally made it to the massive chambers offered to him for the night and collapsed on the bed. Konoha settled down on the futon at the foot of the bed, and Bokuto took the first watch. 

The familiar sight of Bokoto watching over him put Akaashi at ease. They were as different as two people could be, but nobody rose to a challenge like Bokuto and there wasn’t another man he would entrust his life to so readily.

A flash of fire outside the window and an explosion jarred Akaashi from a sound sleep. He leapt out of bed for his sword as quickly as Konoha scrambled for his, and the three of them stood back to back awaiting whatever dared to cross their path. 

Someone pounded on the door frantically, and Akaashi caught the flash of steel against steel as one of Iwaizumi’s hand-picked guards fought off multiple attackers while the other man darted into the room. “You must leave immediately. It isn’t safe for you here anymore.”

The soldier ran over to the dormant fireplace on the far wall and pressed on one of the moldings. Grinding gears protested through the stone, but the entire fireplace slowly recessed back into the wall, revealing a spiraling staircase leading down to the blackened depths of the castle’s innards. “Please, Your Grace, go! I won’t let them follow you.”

Konoha shot Bokuto a look, and they both nodded in unison. Konoha grabbed a torch from the bracket on the wall to lead the way, and Bokuto followed closely behind Akaashi to guard the rear. After a few steps down, the rumble of the fireplace shifting back into place filled the narrow passage. Wherever they were going to come out, Akaashi hoped a similar barrier wouldn’t await them.

Akaashi estimated they descended far past the ground floor of the castle, and just when he entertained the idea of going back the way they came, they reached a massive wooden doorway. In front of the door stood the tallest person Akaashi had ever seen, and his visage was just as looming. 

Mouth pulled into a frown, the man nodded toward the door before opening it. “His Grace asked me to escort you safely from the kingdom. Follow me.”

He held up a brooch, the very one that had pinned on Iwaizumi’s cloak when they met earlier that day, and Akaashi accepted their guide as genuine. “Lead the way.”

For a tall and very noticeable man, their escort moved quickly over the rocky terrain that characterized the backside of the castle. Akaashi was still sandwiched between Konoha and Bokuto, who ran with weapons drawn to fend off even the quickest of attacks.

They were nearly at the perimeter of the grounds surrounding the castle, and Akaashi could see men in Oikawa’s livery waiting with their horses, which were saddled and ready for their imminent escape. He had no idea how anyone could arrange his quick exit while fiery projectiles rained down on the castle, but Akaashi was sure he owed his life to Iwaizumi’s lingering fondness for him and the sense of duty to his former lord.

Repairing relations with Seijou was definitely not a mistake, Akaashi mused even as they fled for their lives from some unidentified attackers.

By the time they reached the horses, however, soldiers in purple and white rushed around the Seijou knights. “We have orders that no Seijou knights are to be left alive,” said the shortest one, a sneer fringed by an uneven haircut and half a dozen men with very large swords. 

He turned his attention to Akaashi. “We have no quarrel with you, Akaashi Keiji of Fukurodani. Leave before I change my mind.”

Their guide drew his own sword and muttered, “Go. They won’t follow you, Your Grace. You have my word.”

Bokuto and Konoha made that decision on Akaashi’s behalf, and he was all but thrown onto his horse just in time for it to barrel off down the road they had taken earlier that day. 

The hairs on the back of Akaashi’s neck prickled with unease. The darkness reeked of skulking shadows that stared at him and knew exactly who he was and where he was going. He wasn’t the only one feeling it, either. 

Bokuto’s horse trotted up to his and he hissed, “We’re being followed. Keep an eye out.”

“I thought as much.” Akaashi’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, sheathed but ready to unleash at any time. 

The attack came as anticipated, and the three of them were ready. With a roar, Bokuto barreled head-on into battle, and Konoha was quick to follow suit. Akaashi held his own against a pair of assailants, Iwaizumi’s good work from many years ago holding him in good stead yet again. He wasn’t the swordsman his companions were, but he was no slouch by any means.

However, as more of the purple and white soldiers descended upon them, the fight slowly shifted out of their favor. Akaashi landed blows with his sword, his fist, his feet — whatever he could use to make contact. 

Akaashi’s head spun when he felt a dagger plunge into his thigh. With a mighty swing, Akaashi managed to relieve his attacker of his head, but the damage was already done. Blood seeped through the fabric of his breeches and soaked into the leather armor over top of it. 

Head spinning, Akaashi was no longer able to stay on his horse, let alone fight, and rough hands dragged him off his mount. In seconds, Bokuto and Konoha stood over his prone form, back to back as they circled Akaashi. 

“Stay down,” Konoha hissed, and Akaashi had no strength to defy that command. He may have been the prince, but when it came to his life, his guards were in charge and that was that. 

Bokuto and Konoha fought like demons, hacking away at any exposed body part they could land a hit on. At least a dozen slain enemies littered the road around them, but yet more of them poured out of the shadows to tax even the best Fukurodani had to offer.

From the pouch at his side, Konoha started throwing small but razor sharp knives in rapid succession. Each one managed to find a home in tender flesh, and more than a few of his victims fell and did not get back up. 

One more newcomer joined the melee, but Akaashi heaved a sigh when he saw the familiar face. Aone, he had identified himself as, plowed his way through a formidable number of the attackers Akaashi still did not recognize but started to feel like he should. 

Once he reached the circle hovering around Akaashi, Bokuto said, “Get him to safety. You did your part, now it’s time to do mine.”

Akaashi knew with him out of battlefield, Bokuto and Konoha could move more freely and win this fight. With every last shred of strength he had, Akaashi dragged himself toward Aone.

The moment he was within arm’s reach, Aone scooped Akaashi up in his arms and sprinted into the deep, dark throes of the forest. The jarring motion of running sent white hot pain shooting to every nerve in Akaashi’s body, but he bit his lip to keep silent. Aone didn’t need to slow down just because Akaashi was a baby about a little bit of pain and blood.

Glancing down at his leg, however, Akaashi amended that thought to a lot of blood. Aone noticed, as well. He slowed to inspect the wound. “Let’s get you somewhere safe. That looks nasty.”

“It feels nasty,” Akaashi admitted. “Thank you. I know it couldn’t have been easy leaving your liege lord at a time like this.”

Aone shook his head. “If this is where my lord needs me, then this is where I go. It’s not my job to question him, just to carry out his will.”

Curious who commanded such loyalty, Akaashi asked, “Which one, the king or the prince?”

“Is there a difference?”

Akaashi heaved a pained breath and groaned. “S’pose not.” He shut his eyes. “Ready.”

And like that, they were off yet again. Akaashi had absolutely no idea where they were or even which direction they were headed, his entire brain eclipsed by a fog of ache and blood loss. 

The world spun around him faster and faster, and Akaashi was about to beg for another small respite, but before he could rustle up the breath to do so, Aone jogged to a stop in front of an ancient log cabin with a thatched roof that looked far too old to be in such good repair. The door stood ajar, and Aone tucked them both through it and kicked it shut behind him. 

Inside the cabin, there was a plain futon of coarse wool weave Akaashi recognized as typical fabric peasants often used for serviceable garments. More gently than such a large man appeared capable of, Aone lowered Akaashi down onto the futon and began rushing around the room. First, a fire started, then a kettle of water to boil, and then a clean-looking tunic was torn to shreds to serve as makeshift bandages.

The wound was still oozing, and Akaashi knew what had to come next. He peeled off his leather glove and bit down on it, nodding at Aone, who returned the gesture before sticking the tip of his sword into the fire.

Akaashi’s eyes bulged and he screamed noiselessly as the hot metal burned his wound and any blood vessels in the area. Aone was quick to dab the area clean of soot and dirt and crusted blood. The gash on Akaashi’s leg, which surely would’ve killed him if left unattended for much longer, was cauterized and bound by cloth boiled clean in scalding hot water.

“You bore that well,” Aone said softly, and he gave Akaashi something that dangerously resembled a smile — an activity he doubted Aone partook in all that often.

“You did it well.” Akaashi dashed at the stray tears that had worked their way down his cheeks during the treatment. He had never felt so much pain in his life and could go the rest of it without experiencing it again. “Where are we?”

“Safe for now,” Aone grunted, and that was that. 

Akaashi watched Aone move around the room, as he had no strength to do anything else, and marveled at the giant’s noiseless stride. He had know idea exactly how this man served his kingdom, but Akaashi didn’t doubt for a second that he did it well.

Soon, Aone presented Akaashi with a simple but hearty stew, with perfectly cooked root vegetables flanking some sort of meat that certainly wasn’t fish. After a few bites, Akaashi finally identified it by its flavor and texture. “Venison?”

“Yes.” Aone did not elaborate, instead favoring consuming his own meal. 

Akaashi had been well fed his entire life, consuming high quality food that nourished his body and his brain and his spirit, yet in its simplicity, these basic ingredients did all of that without the pompous price tag his father insisted on attaching to those qualities. His spirit definitely did not require such riches at the expense of others going without.

Sighing, Akaashi set his mostly-empty wooden bowl on the floor next to him. “You know, I learned a lot today.” Aone stopped eating and focused on him — curious, if Akaashi read his expression right. “My father is not a great king or even a great man. I’m certainly neither of those things. Iwaizumi  _ is _ a great man, and if he is half as loyal to your king as he was to me today, Oikawa is a great man, as well. Strange, but great.” 

Fighting to sit up, Akaashi was panting by the time he propped himself up with his arms. Through gritted teeth, he ground out, “So when you said it doesn’t matter which lord gave you orders, I think I understand.”

“You should stay still.” Aone scowled when Akaashi shook his head. “I promised to keep you alive. Do I have to fight you to do that, as well?”

Akaashi’s cheeks reddened and he averted his gaze. “This is seriously awkward, but I really need to pee.”

With no further warning, Aone corralled Akaashi into his arms once again and transported him outside. Akaashi gingerly balanced on one leg while fighting his belt. A quick glance at Aone showed his escort was looking away, and Akaashi heaved a breath of relief that at least that shred of his dignity remained intact.

It didn’t take long for Akaashi to pass out, the warmth of the fire dragging his eyelids down along with the strange but sweet sound of Aone humming while whittling away at a couple of tree branches.

Akaashi awakened awash in sunlight and throbbing agony emanating from his entire leg. His moan drew Aone’s attention immediately, who undressed Akaashi’s wound to inspect it.

“You’re healing well.” He wrapped it in fresh bandages and then offered Akaashi a bowl of fresh berries. “Eat.”

“As you wish.” Akaashi was fairly certain nobody but his parents, and Bokuto when the situation warranted, had ever ordered him to do anything. Aone feared neither him nor his title, and Akaashi had to admit that he found it refreshing to be a normal person to at least someone. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**** The days wore on, with long bouts of comfortable silence broken up by Aone helping Akaashi stretch his limbs to keep them from cramping and the occasional meal break. 

The rest of their time was spent with Akaashi talking about anything and everything he could think about to make him forget about the pain in his leg. His favorite foods. Life growing up with Bokuto and Konoha, with them brawling in the dirt like brothers rather than lord and subjects. Aone carefully listened to it all.

Akaashi managed to hobble around the cabin on crutches Aone had fashioned for him, thankfully no longer relegated to needing assistance to relieve himself. 

He had no idea how to cook, but Akaashi tried his hand at it anyway. In his endeavors, he learned that rabbit meat was fatty and burned easily, and carrots cooked far slower than meat. Aone patiently pointed out his errors and how to correct them, and within a few days, Akaashi could make himself a meal that was neither too charred nor too crunchy.

Aone shared very little about himself, but Akaashi didn’t mind. Not everyone’s life was a series of public events. He wondered what it would be like to live like that, and he was curious how Iwaizumi had survived the transition from peace to the chaos of administering a kingdom. 

It was days before Akaashi finally asked what he had itched to know since the night of the attack on Blue Castle. “Do you know who attacked the castle?” Aone froze, averting his eyes before he eventually nodded. “Who are they?”

“Far to the north, there’s a king who wants Seijou’s port access, and he’ll do whatever he can to take it.” Aone’s face pulled into a mask of disgust. “He already took my home away from me. I would like to repay the favor.”

Akaashi scrambled through scores of modern history, and it didn’t take long to realize what and who Aone was referring to. “You’re from Datekou, aren’t you?” Aone nodded. 

Stories of Tendou the Mad King circulated for as long as Akaashi could remember. Pledged to serve the previous king of Shiratorizawa, Ushijima, Tendou seized the throne after Ushijima was killed in battle and terrorized the surrounding lands in grief and rage. 

The first victim of Tendou’s swath of slaughter had been Datekou, the small but strong fiefdom that separated Shiratorizawa from Seijou. Every village, every house, every barn, every forest within its boundaries were burnt to the ground. “The Mad King thought he got every last one of you.”

“He did not, but he did try.” Aone looked around the cabin and shook his head. “There are days I wish he had. Everyone I ever knew is gone.”

The ache in Aone’s voice clawed at Akaashi’s gut uncomfortably. “I’m sorry to bring it up. I won’t do it again.”

“You deserve to know.” Aone’s gaze drifted to the door, which was cracked open just enough to let fresh air in. “Your men fight bravely. With lesser skilled guards, you would be dead. His Grace said the world needs more men like you. Just for that, I would never let the Mad King or his minions kill me to get to you.”

Akaashi thought about Bokuto and Konoha, his best and closest friends. It ate at him that he didn’t know if they made it home safely or even out of Seijou alive. The world may have needed Akaashi, but Akaashi certainly needed them.

The affairs of an entire kingdom descended onto his taxed brain. What would happen once his father found out about the attack? About his visit to Seijou? Would he start a war his people were ill equipped to win? Who would he start a war with? Akaashi had Oikawa’s word that peace would settle between them, but if Yajimi chose to attack, surely he would choose to preserve his kingdom rather than a tentative agreement with someone he barely knew.

“It won’t be long before you’re fit to travel. Then you’ll know.” 

Aone’s calm reassurance eased some of the anxiety roiling inside of Akaashi. “I count the hours.” However, Akaashi’s statement washed away the hint of a smile from Aone’s face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Aone looked down at his hands folded in his lap and took a deep breath. “I enjoy your company, Your Grace. I shall miss it.”

Oh. The answer was not one Akaashi had expected. His presence must have been a great burden on Aone’s already overrun existence. He had not considered the idea that Aone liked him in any capacity. “Well, then if my father manages not to start a war with Seijou, I should like to keep your company in the future.”

Aone blinks at him in surprise. “You need not trouble yourself, Your Grace. I am a man who belongs nowhere, and certainly not wasting a prince’s valuable time. Your burdens are great enough as it is.”

Akaashi chuckled. “I think you underestimate the value of easy companionship.” He gripped Aone’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re a good man, Aone, and I would be lucky to call you a friend.”

Inhaling sharply, Aone stared steadfast at the patch of floor at his side. “Do not say such things lightly.”

“I do not.” Akaashi shifted himself to sit on the futon directly in front of Aone, and he nudged Aone’s chin until their gazes met. “You are an ally to me until I die or you try to kill me, and even then, that may not matter. I’ve only known you for days, but it feels like a lifetime. I look forward to many more years of your good company.”

Aone’s jaw dropped, his cheeks turning pink, and for a moment Akaashi forgot how to breathe. Impulse seized the reins, and he leaned forward to press their mouths together. Aone’s lips were warm, slightly dry, and eager to welcome his. 

_ Do not say such things lightly. _ Those words meant a lot more to Akaashi at that moment than they had mere minutes ago. Aone’s increasing unease around him made sense at last. Something was stirring between them, but the difference between then and now was that Akaashi was aware of it at last.

“I do nothing lightly, Aone,” Akaashi murmured against Aone’s mouth. “Please believe me when I say that.”

Aone’s eyes fluttered shut, his lashes brushing outward charmingly against the pale skin underneath. “I do.” 

Akaashi pressed one final kiss before leaning back and out of Aone’s personal space. “I apologize. It was rude to do that without your consent, but I hope you understand that I mean what I say.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Shaking his head, Akaashi corrected, “Keiji.”

Aone inhaled sharply, his gaze searching frantically for any sign that Akaashi had not said that in earnest. The request was genuine, however, and Akaashi’s heart stuttered as he waited for Aone to make use of his given name — one only his parents, Bokuto, and Konoha ever used.

“You will be a strange king,” Aone said instead, but his words brought a smile to Akaashi’s face because it certainly was not a refusal. It was no longer a mystery to him why a king like Oikawa would choose love over obligation.

As the days continued to pass, Akaashi’s strength grew under Aone’s attentive care. The muscles around the wound began to knit and fire again, leaving the beginnings of a scar that would look far more interesting than it actually was.

When Akaashi was finally able to move about the cabin without the aid of crutches for more than a few minutes at a time, after their evening meal, Aone said softly, “It is time.”

“It is.” Akaashi sighed and looked around the room for anything he had to take with him. There was nothing to take that he hadn’t worn the day of the attack. Nothing except —

The wooden box Oikawa had given him still lay in his bag that had been strapped to his horse, but the key inside was hanging around his neck from a chain. Tugging it from beneath his shirt, Akaashi mused, “I almost forgot about this. I’ll finally get to see what’s in there.”

Aone gasped at the sight of the key. “That is the king’s crest.”

“It is?” Akaashi examined the symbols engraved in the head of the key, and it resembled neither his father’s nor Oikawa’s seal. “I don’t think so.”

Shaking his head, Aone’s entire attention was fastened to the key. “Not of a living king. His Majesty King Moniwa’s family crest. I’m not surprised you don’t know it well. We were both very young when he died.”

The king of Datekou had a key to a lock in the heart of Fukurodani’s royal keep? 

As much as Akaashi hated to leave this peaceful haven of Aone’s making, every scrap of curiosity in him burned to know what was behind that door. And maybe the lure of a piece of his homeland would keep Aone by his side just a little bit longer.

The next morning, they set out through the woods. Not on the mail trails or roads, but through the unkempt wild brush that flanked most of the trees. Akaashi’s arms and legs were littered with dozens of tiny scratches from passing by brambles, but he did not slow his pace to avoid him, lurching forward as fast as his crutches would propel him. 

The first familiar structure they came upon once they cleared the woods just before sunset was one of the farmhouses lining the outskirts of Fukurodani. The farmer who lived there, a man around Akaashi’s age named Washio, dropped his shovel and broke out into a run the moment he spotted Akaashi and Aone.

Panting when he jogged to a stop in front of them, Washio dropped to his knees at Akaashi’s feet and gasped, “Your Grace, we feared you were dead.”

“I have to admit, they certainly tried.” Akaashi patted Washio’s shoulder. “Please get up. I’m your guest, you are not mine.”

Next to Akaashi, Aone chuckled. “A strange king indeed.”

That brought a smile to Akaashi’s face. However, amusement was a luxury he could ill afford. “Could I trouble you to lend me a mount? I have to make sure my father hasn’t started any new spats with neighboring kingdoms while I’ve been gone.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Washio ran off to his barn, emerging with a pair of draft horses with roughly crafted leather saddles. “They are my best and strongest, Your Grace. They are not much, but they are yours for as long as you need.”

Akaashi gripped Washio’s shoulder and nodded. “I will repay your hospitality in due time. I thank you, sir.”

With horses beneath them, the trip back to Fukurodani’s keep was far more efficient. By nightfall, they reached countryside Akaashi could navigate blind and still be at ease. However, without more information of the current state of things, he erred on the side of caution and led the two of them to a secret gate that ended deep in the lower levels. 

Every hidden passage the house had to offer, they kept to those until they reached the one leading to Akaashi’s chambers. The room he had lived in for his entire childhood and adulthood after was so familiar, yet odd to look at after being away for only two weeks. 

His eyes fell on the pull string next to his bed, which led to a bell in the guard captain’s quarters — Bokuto’s quarters. Akaashi had never rang that bell, instead opting to visit his friend and protector in person. But that day, he tugged at it over and over until the door to his room burst open, revealing a wheezing Bokuto. 

“Keiji,” he gasped, and Akaashi was quickly enveloped in Bokuto’s boisterous embrace. He was surprised, however, when Bokuto finally released him and revealed the tears streaming unchecked down his face.

Bokuto turned to Aone and bowed low. “Thank you, Aone. Keiji is my entire life, and you have restored him to me, to all of us.”

“You are fortunate to have such a lord.” The corner of Aone’s mouth quirked up into one of his almost-smiles. “And such a friend. Keiji speaks highly of you.”

At the sound of Akaashi’s given name, Bokuto stands up straight and looks back and forth between the two of them, slack-jawed and speechless. Akaashi pressed a finger over his grin, and Bokuto’s eyes grew wide. “I see,” he finally said, winking at Akaashi in the most obvious way possible. 

“What has happened since I’ve been gone?”

Bokuto’s good cheer slipped. “Your father thinks Oikawa killed you. He tried to declare war on Seijou the minute he found out where you went and that you didn’t come back.” 

Akaashi screwed his eyes shut and groaned. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” However, one particular word stood out in Bokuto’s statement. “What do you mean ‘tried’?”

Leaning close, Bokuto whispered, “Your mother may or may not have fed him laxatives the entire time to keep him, uh, occupied while we tried to figure out what was really going on.”

Akaashi threw back his head and laughed, relief removing days’ worth of dread. “We’ll throw her a party. She probably stopped a war. I assume you want to plan it.”

“Oh hell yeah.” Bokuto whooped and bumped his shoulder against Aone’s. “And you’re totally invited, Mr. Tall Dark and Cranky.”

Aone wrinkled his nose. “I’m not cranky. This is just my face.”

Bokuto slapped his thigh and grinned. “And a great face it is, my friend.” His attention turned back to Akaashi. “All right, drop your pants.”

Sputtering in surprise, Aone coughed while Akaashi merely rolled his eyes. “Is this really necessary?”

“Don’t argue with me, I’m bigger than you.” Without preamble, Bokuto dropped to his knees and started unbuckling Akaashi’s belt. 

His cheer evaporated when he laid eyes on the red, puckered flesh of Akaashi’s healing wound. “Keiji . . .” Bokuto’s fingers shook as they traced the outline of the sword used to burn the gash on his thigh shut. “I will never be able to make up for allowing something like this to happen to you.”

“What, being one of the main reasons I’m still alive?” Akaashi flicked Bokuto in the forehead before jerking his pants back up around his waist. “Don’t be an idiot. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m just relieved you’re all right.” With a heavy breath, he dared to ask the final question weighing on him. “Konoha?”

Bokuto quirked a crooked smile. “He’s a little banged up, but it gives his mom a good excuse to lock him in the house and make him spend time with her.”

Akaashi blanched at the thought of Konoha’s loving yet smothering mother. “I’ll rescue him as soon as possible.”

“You’re not my favorite prince for nothing, Keiji.” Bokuto’s spirits were already on the rebound, and the world began to right itself for Akaashi. “I’ll give you a minute. You want anything to eat? I can have something sent up for you.”

Groaning, Akaashi said, “I want a giant pile of meat and the biggest bottle of wine you can find.”

When they were alone once again, Akaashi reached for one of Aone’s hands, hanging limply at his sides. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to stay with me.”

Aone worried his bottom lip with his teeth, averting his gaze. “His Grace will want to know you’re returned right away.”

“And he will receive a messenger on the fastest horse we have to do that.” Akaashi rested Aone’s large, work-roughened hand over his heart. “If anyone deserves to know what is behind that locked door, it’s you.”

Akaashi pulled the chain bearing the key from around his neck and placed it around Aone’s. “If you must leave, I understand, but let me find some way to repay you for your company and your kindness.”

“As you wish.” Aone brushed his fingers delicately over the carved surface of the key. “Thank you.” 

“We’ll go right after I eat half a cow.” Aone snorted, having previously made note of Akaashi’s ability to eat an obscene amount of food despite not having a scrap of extra fat on him. “Ever since I was little, I would sneak down into the kitchens and Suzumeda would have some sort of junk food my mother didn’t want me to eat waiting for me.” 

Aone’s eyes narrowed, and he stared at Akaashi for a strange minute before he chortled. “I was trying to picture what you looked like when you were small.”

Akaashi shrugged. “Covered in dirt, hair only brushed when someone could actually catch me, and always going places I wasn’t supposed to. Average kid stuff, really. Allegedly, I was ‘cute’, but I was too much of a tiny rat bastard to be cute.”

“There must be mirrors somewhere in this place. You’re beautiful to me.” Aone smoothed a thumb down the line of Akaashi’s jaw, eliciting a shiver of anticipation. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Akaashi breathed, heart beating loudly in his ears. “I’m afraid I might even have to insist.”

This kiss was a wisp of a thing, soft enough that Akaashi almost thought he imagined it. However, Aone’s dark pupils and intense gaze was no hallucination, and it took Akaashi’s breath away. 

His hands streaked up into the short, silken strands of Aone’s silvery blond hair. Aone closed his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh, and Akaashi swallowed it hungrily. His wounded leg ached from a full day of walking, but he couldn’t even begin to focus on that now. The only thing that mattered was this.

Akaashi didn’t hear the door open until a familiar voice rang throughout the room.

“Keiji, you jerk, you’ve been home for an hour and you didn’t even — wow, I need to learn to knock.” Konoha was blushing up a storm when Akaashi glanced over to drink in the sight of his good friend. 

He didn’t like the sling on his shoulder holding a splinted arm, but the sight of Konoha’s face filled Akaashi with a familiar rush of relief. “I was going to rescue you sooner rather than later,” Akaashi teased. “And yes, knocking is good.”

Konoha nodded woodenly, eyes flitting back and forth between Akaashi and Aone. “So, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on here, or do I get to guess?”

Chuckling, Akaashi dropped his forehead against Aone’s shoulder and murmured, “I need new friends.”

“Well, that’s a thing, I suppose.” Konoha looked Akaashi up and down several times. “So, how’s your leg?”

Akaashi shook his head. “If you ask me to drop my pants, I  _ will _ have you drawn and quartered.”

“Whatever that means, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.” Konoha gaped as Akaashi threaded his fingers with Aone’s. “I did not see that coming, but whatever makes you happy, right?”

“Iwaizumi seems to agree.” He smiled at the memory of Iwaizumi bickering with his grand lord of a husband and both of them loved every minute of it. While Akaashi wasn’t sure he wanted to bicker for sport, the idea of sharing openly and honestly was appealing, and choosing the person he felt most at home with even more so.

Aone inclined his head to Konoha. “Thank you for trusting me with your lord’s life. I understand why you and your comrade serve him so loyally.”

Konoha nodded in reply. “There’s a lot more to understand, you know. Keiji is happier than he’s been in a long time, so if you’d care to stick around and find out what else makes him tick . . .” He waggled his eyebrows, and Akaashi couldn’t bite back a tired groan. “I’m kidding. Sort of.” 

Backing toward the door, Konoha said, “So, um, I’m going to get the hell out of here and let you crazy kids get back to doing, you know, stuff that crazy kids do. See ya!” He bumped into the open door twice on his way out.

“What just happened?” Aone scratched at his temple in thought. 

“Damned if I know. I just live here.” Akaashi took both of Aone’s hands in his and tugged them toward the downy bulk of Akaashi’s bed. “So, where were we?”

Aone closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “Waiting for dinner,” he replied, and Akaashi knew this was as far as they were going to go at the moment. 

“Dinner.” 

After a hearty meal and a little too much wine, Akaashi led Aone down into the guts of the castle, where the steel-banded door had stood locked for so long. Even Yajimi didn’t actually know what was inside, as he didn’t care for the smell of the lower levels and never went down there if he could help it.

The door did not match the rest of the wooden features in the keep, and Akaashi had noted over the years that it was far less seasoned than everything else. It had to have been recently installed, as the sticky muck that adhered itself to most of the surfaces this far down in the lower levels was not nearly as thick. 

“You want to open it?” Akaashi asked Aone.

Aone took a deep breath. “I will.” He slipped the chain bearing the key from around his neck and pushed it into the lock.

The first thing to reach their attention was the cloud of dust disturbed by the draft introduced when the door opened. It billowed out, and Akaashi pulled his shirt over his face to ward off as much as he could. “Well, I suppose I should’ve seen that coming.” Aone harrumphed at that. 

Once the dust settled, Akaashi held up the lantern in his hand to cast the first light on this room in many years. His jaw dropped when he laid eyes on the contents of the vault. 

There were paintings, tapestries, sculptures, and piles upon piles of tubes that were designed to shelter scrolls from the effects of age and environment. Each tube had the same crest on the sealed end as the key. Whatever was in these scrolls, they had most certainly belonged to Datekou before they ended up here.

However, when Akaashi glanced over at Aone, there was only one thing in the room he was looking at. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and his hands shook at his sides. 

“Are you okay?” Akaashi followed Aone’s line of sight, and it was glued to a painting that was caked with dust but a majority of the pigment could still be discerned. “Do you know what this is?”

“Yes.” Aone’s voice was not even as loud as a whisper, and the ache that it carried elicited a stab of sympathy. He had no idea what it was like to lose everything, everyone he ever knew or loved. He came close and would’ve done if not for Aone, but in these cases, almost was nowhere near the real thing. 

Akaashi pulled his sleeve over his hand and carefully scraped away the thicker clods of dust until the whole picture was uncovered enough for him to possibly identify it.

The portrait was a painting of an armored knight on a horse, which was standing on its hind legs as its master held up a broadsword that Akaashi knew from experience would require a ridiculous amount of strength. 

As with most paintings of knights, there was no helmet blocking the rider’s face. He had a squarish jaw, thin eyebrows, brooding eyes, and short, silver-blond hair — features Akaashi would recognize anywhere. “Oh my god.”

“Papa,” Aone gasped. 

Akaashi’s heart lurched in his chest. “I didn’t know this would be here. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I’m —” His gushing apology ground to a halt when he saw the way Aone had transformed. There were tears on his face, muddy little streaks leading down his cheeks from the dust in the room, but a wide, bright, and beautiful smile lingered on his lips. 

“I never thought I’d get to see him again.” Aone drifted over to where Akaashi had left the painting perched, his fingers tracing the outline of the bold knight pictured there. Akaashi hadn’t been able to make out the name from the flourished signature, but if Aone wanted to talk about his father, then that was what they were going to do. “Do you want a minute alone?”

Aone shook his head and took Akaashi’s hand in his. “I’ve been alone ever since the Shiratori came.”

“Then I’ll stay as long as you want.” Giving Aone’s hand a reaffirming squeeze, Akaashi said, “I’m going to look at some of the scrolls.” While Aone kept staring at the portrait of his father, Akaashi grabbed the nearest tube. 

The lid twisted off with minimal protest, and he slid the scroll into his waiting hands. His eyes honed in on the document, reading it from top to bottom while his jaw sagged open in shock. “These are chronicles. This must be what’s left of Datekou’s written history.”

Aone’s attention finally diverted from the painting and to the scroll in Akaashi’s hands. After a few moments of staring at the words painstakingly written on the page, he nodded. “This tells the tale of King Moniwa’s father. He once sang a bear to sleep to keep it from attacking him when he was lost in the woods.”

Akaashi chuckled at the story. “Sounds like someone Bokuto would like very much.”

“He would have.” Aone took in the breadth of the room, at how many scrolls were encapsulated in a foreign vault. “Everything that’s left of my homeland is here.”

Akaashi began to mentally tally the estimated number of scrolls and pieces of art to compare it to the library that was far above them. There was not nearly as much, but after the Mad King had torched every house, keep, shed, and shanty to the ground all across Datekou, it was a miracle that any of it had survived at all.

“But why here in particular?”

“And why did His Grace have the key to this room?”

“Because he was supposed to be my husband, so I gave it to him for safekeeping until the Mad King could be stopped.” Akaashi whipped around for his eyes to confirm what his ears already knew. His Aunt Yukie, who was older than his father and even her ex-fiance, still was a vision at her age. Yajimi had not weathered the years nearly as well. “Keiji, dear, you should really tell people besides that buffoonish bodyguard of yours when you come back from the dead.”

Akaashi shrugged. “But he’s my buffoon.”

Aone bowed deeply to Yukie. “Forgive my rudeness, my lady. I didn’t recognize you.”

“Stand up, my dear boy.” She swatted Aone’s shoulder with the fan that lived perpetually in her voluminous sleeves. “If you are who I think you are, you bow to no one, least of all me. Well, you might have to bow to my brother, but other than that, you’re among equals here.”

Aone and Akaashi shared a puzzled glance, and Yukie gave Aone a sad smile. “I’m very sorry we had to meet this way, but once Bokuto shouted down the castle letting everyone know you were back, I had a few questions. Once he said who came with you and what he looked like —” 

Yukie reached up and cupped Aone’s cheek, which she could barely reach because of their mammoth difference in heights. “I knew it had to be you.”

“I don’t remember you, my lady.” Aone searched Yukie’s face for answers his old, fading memories no longer had. “Who are you?”

“I should think not. You were barely old enough to walk the last time I saw you.” She cast a fond look at the painting of Aone’s father. “You look so much like him. The first time I looked at you, I thought I was seeing Hideo again.”

Both of Yukie’s hands clasped around one of Aone’s much larger ones. She let out a shuddering breath. “Aone Hideo was King Moniwa’s brother in law. He was also someone I loved very much.”

Akaashi swallowed hard and looked at Aone. He didn’t see a resemblance, but Aone’s appearance was clearly the product of his father’s genes. If this meant what he thought it did, that meant —

“No, I’m not his biological mother.” It was Akaashi’s turn to be swatted with the fan. “I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.”

Yukie wrapped her arms around Aone’s bicep and sighed. “Your mother was Tooru’s youngest sister and one of my best friends. When she married Hideo, I went with her so she wouldn’t be alone in a strange place. I never thought for a moment that I would fall in love with her husband.

“But she soon became pregnant, and I had to move on. Mai noticed I was unhappy, and she thought I had baby fever because she had a little one running around and I didn’t. So she started wheedling her brother to marry me, which he refused because I was absolutely the farthest thing from my type.”

Akaashi snorted, recalling his own similar conclusion. “That’s a mouthful.”

She hummed in agreement but pushed on with the meat of her story. “And then the Mad King attacked. Scraps of Moniwa’s family crest were found at the scene when Ushijima was killed, and he didn’t ask too many questions when it came to whether he should dole out revenge. That Tendou burned everything in his path on the way to the Iron Keep, and he wasn’t going to stop until every single bit and piece of Datekou was scraped from the face of the earth.”

Akaashi could see her shiver at the memory, and he understood why. Now this was the part of the story he knew. Tales of the cruel swath Tendou had cut through Datekou were widely known. It had been part of Akaashi’s schooling because his father never wanted him to take his responsibilities as the future king lightly.

“As soon as he reached the Iron Walls, he stormed the keep and killed every last member of Moniwa’s family first,” Akaashi added.  “Then his retainers, and then the servants and the villagers.”

Aone reeled back against the cold stone wall, and Akaashi could see the shock and horror play out on his face. It was subtle, but after weeks in Aone’s company, he couldn’t miss it. “Taka, do you want to keep going?”

At the sound of his given name, which Akaashi had never used to date, Aone accepted Akaashi’s extended hand and closed his eyes. “I want to know.”

“I understand.” He nodded to Yukie, who was looking at them both strangely. “What happened after that?”

And Yukie forged on. “Moniwa’s people were already loading up everything they could grab to preserve, and I said I would bring it back here in case the worst happened. The moment Hideo found out they were coming for everyone, though he tried to get both you and Mai to leave with me.”

Yukie’s shoulders sagged. “She knew they would be looking for her. There was nobody of consequence who didn’t know she was married into Moniwa’s extended family. No matter where she went, the Mad King would hunt her down.”

“So she stayed to be killed so they wouldn’t come looking for you,” Akaashi supplied. His eyes strayed over to Aone. “Or for him.”

“That’s right.” Yukie dashed a tear from her cheek, and her eyes glittered with more to come in the lamplight. “The first thing I did was go to Tooru and beg him to hide you. And you are his nephew, so how could he not? But he did bring up an interesting point: Seijou would be the first place the Mad King would look for any of Mai’s children who might of escaped.”

“I grew up deep in the forest outside the castle walls with a crazy old blind man. His Grace must have sent me there.” 

Akaashi shook his head and swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry. I knew terrible things would’ve happened to your family because of where you were from, but I never dreamed of all the things that could’ve happened because of who you are.” 

“And who you are, Aone Takanobu, is the rightful heir to Datekou. All this —” Yukie’s hand swept the breadth of the room. “— is yours.”

Aone huffed. “The king of ashes. That sounds about right.”

A lot of things crashed together in Akaashi’s head at once. “The Mad King is dying. Once he’s gone, the next in line may very well call of this ridiculous vendetta and let whoever might be left of Datekou to go back there. The buildings are all gone, but the grass and trees and flowers and animals are all growing back.” Akaashi placed Aone’s hand onto his own cheek and pressed a kiss into his palm. “Just because something burns does not mean it cannot grow again. What was can never be again, but something new can take its place.”

Aone crushed Akaashi in an air-stealing embrace. “Only if you’re there with me.”

“Oh, you won’t get rid of him that easily,” Yukie interjected. “He’s an Akaashi. He has a habit of finding just the right people to spend his time with to make him a better person. God knows how he ended up with that Bokuto, but it is what it is.”

Akaashi chortled against Aone’s chest. “I appreciate the vote of confidence in my choice of friends.”

“Well, you did all right with this one.” Yukie reached for Aone, but her hand stalled halfway there and it dropped to her side. “I cannot replace your mother by any means — nor would I try — but if there is anything in this world that I can do to make you as happy as you made your parents, I will steal it from the gods if I have to.”

“Thank you.” Aone was quiet as usual, but there was an edge of emotion that soaked into his tone that Akaashi barely noticed because it was seldom ever there. 

Yukie nodded and turned. “Now, I’ll leave you boys alone. I think you both have a lot to talk about.”

Once they were alone, Akaashi said, “She’s right, you know. You could restore an entire kingdom. With tensions easing between Fukurodani and Seijou, there would be little Shiratorizawa could do about it if we all stood together. The power balance would be restored all over the continent.”

“I’m not a king.” Aone shook his head. “I have no talent for diplomacy or bureaucracy.”

“Those things are learned, not inherited.” Akaashi gave Aone a lopsided smile. “You won me over pretty quick, and I’m allegedly a decent judge of character. You’re a good man, and the world could use more men like you, as well.”

“I can’t do it without you.”  Aone kneaded his bottom lip with his teeth.

Akaashi chuckled. “I daresay you can, but that doesn’t mean I would let you. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Aone brushed his thumb over the swell of Akaashi’s until it skated over his mouth like a feather. The kiss was just as light, but it was more than just a kiss. 

It was a pact. They would fight to rebuild what had been lost, to right old and weathered wrongs, and they would do it together. 

Much later, the two of them left the vault so trusted staff members could begin cleaning and cataloguing the contents, and hand in hand they ascended the steps. Once the door of Akaashi’s chambers closed behind them, their new future began in a meeting of body and heart. 

 

**_Six Months Later_ **

 

“Take a look at this.” Iwaizumi dropped an elaborately penned missive, which had just been delivered by a rider from Fukurodani, into Oikawa’s lap. “Do you ever get tired of being wrong?”

Oikawa stuck out his tongue, but there was no trace of irritation on his face. Not when he saw the header of the letter. There was no place for being irritated today, even if Iwaizumi was being a nasty brute. “We should throw them a party.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Not everything is an excuse for a party, Tooru. Besides, Yukie will probably already be planning something.”

“But my only nephew and my favorite next door neighbor are getting married!” Oikawa elbowed his husband and harrumphed. “You are so unromantic. Why do I even like you?”

“Because no  _ one  _ else likes you, love.” Iwaizumi pecked a kiss to Oikawa’s cheek and leaned in to read the letter again. “They’re a bit of an odd couple, but good men do good things when their hearts are in it.”

Nodding, Oikawa leaned into Iwaizumi’s side. “When Yukie brought me an actual baby, I had no idea what I was supposed to do with one. It’s a good feeling, though, watching someone who used to be knee high grow up and save a kingdom.” He sighed. “I wish I could have done more for him. Little Taka deserved better than that.”

“I know.” Iwaizumi draped an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders. “You did what you had to do. It wouldn’t have been hard for anyone to figure out he was your sister’s son. You did what you had to do. They both probably already know that, which is why they’re inviting you to their damn wedding.” 

Oikawa perked up, and Iwaizumi scoffed. “You’re right. Now, should I wear my gold armor to the wedding?”

Iwaizumi elbowed him. “I will not be seen with some ostentatious twit. Wear something normal.”

“I’m not normal!”

“You got that right.” 

The two of them sniped at each other all the way to the dining hall, and Oikawa wasn’t sure how he fell in love with the rudest man in the world, but his life was better for it and he knew Aone’s and Akaashi’s would be, as well.

**Author's Note:**

> This is weird and I'm sorry. It's fun to write though.


End file.
